Within a wood, beneath the moon,
where summer's sodden leaves are strewn,
we walk alone, except for one
          of eerie watchfulness,
who wears a cloak of twilight sewn,
a hood that darkly drapes upon
a hollow face of hollow bone
          and eyes of emptiness.

The time has come to disavow,
whatever hindered us till now,
come lie beneath this mossy bough,
          come lie within my arms,
and think of nothing but of how
I lift the hair from off your brow ~
tomorrow, love, tomorrow,
          we shall lie with worms.